Mom and I went for a nice long walk one night in the Full of the November moon.

Mom and I always go for lots of walks

day and at least one at night.

Mom says her favorite night-time walk is in the full-moon, although the dark of moon allows the star-spangled sky to shine.

Mom takes her camera, although she doesn’t always get good photos. Still…she likes to snap away.

As for me…well…I like to check out news! But you knew that already! 🙂

So…..along the way we ran into a buck…who actually ran into us.

We scared him so bad he jumped the fence, then the canal and the next fence and ran away, away, away.

Mom took a picture of all the house lights over the mesa from us in what the old-timers used to call “No-Mans-Land” ….I guess it’s should be called ‘Any-man’s-land” now since there are houses all over down there.

On the way back Mom sat down on the gated pipe and just sat. Suddenly a doe came out of the corn…walked right in front of Mom and guess what…MOM GOT A PHOTO!!!

Of course the deer got a scare. She bounded off on her tip-toes in dainty leaps and bounds.

Back home the fire in the woodstove felt good…Mom and I settled in for the night…refreshed and bathed in moonlight.

For some reason I seem to be experiencing a vague foreboding. Like a small cloud of some sort of oppression— a hovering chill; trouble looking for somewhere to strike–maybe around the next turn.

I have no idea what it is, or why…but it’s there…riding the winds from the north

Our autumn days wax and wane from warm to cold and back again to repeat as the leaves change and flutter to the ground. There is a tingle to air promising winter is not far off now.

On chill days the wood stove heats the house; two cats and our dog; and a toasting husband. The knots of burning elm tick faintly as they pop and burn warming the air.

And still I feel it…that unsettled feeling…like the night air breathing on my neck. (If I were a cat my fur would be lifted in alarm.)

Oh, well…I continue forward. There is nothing much else to do…we ride out checking the corn, measuring the dryness (16%—when it reaches 15% we can start harvesting)

Sitting around worrying is time wasted.

We ride (skimming) through the farm, on roads which which sometimes look like wild pathways…over the Coyote trails and onto Coyote Hill… the little trip makes me think of all the old, ancient ones who walked here way before me.

For this I give thanks, ask for protection for this land I love, all the living things on it, and for my husband and children and the children of my children, and you, my friends; protection and safety for you, also.

Then I wait…maybe whatever this feeling is will dissipate and go away.

The warmth of a light heart will return— I can travel each day with ease.

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Life on a Colorado Farm

My name is Linda Brown. I live on a farm on the western slope of Colorado, in the high mountain desert. I’ve lived here all my life, hailing back four generations on my father’s side. Today I blog about our farm, the everyday activities that keep the farm going. I also write about my thoughts and dreams and goals. On Friday’s I always write about our two farm dogs (Fuzzy (now over the rainbow bridge) and Boomer) and their take of their life on our farm.
The lovely thing about blogging it opens the world up for all of us to reach out and meet people from many different cultures and different ways of life. You can find me every day (but Saturday) at https://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com/
Your Friend on a Western Colorado Farm,
Linda Brown